Untitled
by NOOOOOOOO
Summary: Vince's friendly advice to a stranger gets him punched in the face. There's only one person who can truely comfort him. Short one-shot. Hidden fluff, if you'd wish to think of it that way.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Mighty Boosh, you ball bag.

* * *

_"When I was 14, I saw someone getting their face and wrists slashed with a knife in a pub in Catford. __Nobody lifted a finger. __That's when I realised that violence wasn't funny. __At all." __-_Noel Fielding.

There was nothing he could do about what had just occurred. He was at a loss. He couldn't even believe it had happened, but as Vince stumbled down the streets of Dalston, eye swollen under his hand, he knew he'd said the wrong thing to the wrong fellow.

It wasn't _all _that he'd gotten himself punched, but it was a major part of the entire deal. It was more that his friends -his so-called friends- did nothing about it. They stared, or they laughed and a few tried to ignore that it happened, trying to drag Vince back to the dance floor, party with him, make him happy.

He didn't need to be happy right now...

He'd only told the guy that his hair was a mess. It wasn't that big of a deal, the guy overreacted. It was just helpful advice. People didn't hit Vince... They just didn't!

Buzzed from the few drinks he had before the event, Vince fumbled in his pocket for his keys. They were in those tight black pants, that was for sure. He just couldn't remember which pocket. Ah, there they were. Front pocket, left.

He swung open the door and locked it behind him. He was going to have to put on his 'Sunshine' face now. He wouldn't have Naboo, Bollo, or Howard see that he'd been hurt. Not physically, that was too obvious. Emotionally.

So, he put on a smile and trotted up the stairs, swinging his keyring on his finger. He greeted Bollo and Naboo, sitting on the couch, passing a hookah back and forth. They both questioned what happened.

Vince smirked and shook his head. "Oh, nothing. Just got a little wild partying tonight, that's all. Everybody was fist pumping, there was a dwarf there! His fists were a little too low and he was standing a little too close. And all of a sudden, 'Ah!' Right in the eyes." He made one of his silly faces, laughed and turned for his bedroom.

As his bedroom door closed softly behind him, he heard Bollo's deep voice. "I've got a bad feeling about this..."

Vince shook his head again and turned. Bollo had a bad feeling about _everything. _The strange shapes of jazz infiltrated his ears. It was something he could never understand. The shapes and colors of jazz went in one ear, kicked his ear drums, then went out the other. And Howard _liked _this nonsense. He couldn't never understand.

"Whoa now!" Howard exclaimed, catching a glance of Vince's face. "What happened there?"

Vince smiled a small, sad, smile. "It was crow day at The Velvet Onion tonight. They got to pecking at my eye. I grabbed one of those little umbrellas from the fancy drinks. They broke right through it! Can you believe it?"

He chuckled and sat on his bed, looking across at Howard. He could tell by his face that his best friend was seeing right through that lie.

Howard grabbed a notebook off the nearby nightstand and scribbled inside of it. "Yeah, that excuse is going in the book." He sat the notebook off to the side and looked back towards Vince. "Now, do you wanna tell me what_ really _happened? Or are you content with the lie?"

Vince shrugged. "Actually, I was quite fine with the lie until you pointed it out..." he mumbled.

What was it about Howard that made Vince's Sunshine Kid mask fade when no one else was around to see it go? He didn't expect to break down right then in there, right in front of Howard. He didn't _want _to. Yet there he was, doing just that. And it felt good. He couldn't remember the last time he had a cry.

"They didn't do anything, Howard!" Vince sobbed. "They just watched as it happened and laughed! Or went on, trying to make me dance! I didn't _need _to dance!"

This is what he needed. He needed to cry. He needed to cry right there, with someone who wouldn't judge. Howard was perfect for that.

He wasn't sure when their positions shifted and Howard ended up at his side, but he didn't mind either. He wrapped his thin arms around his friend and hugged him tightly. "He just hit me, and they didn't do anything!"

Vince couldn't say anymore. Everything was broken apart in his sobs and he let it stay that way. The tears ran down his face, the sobs broke from his mouth, and everything was alright. Everything would _be _alright as long as Howard didn't leave his side.

* * *

Vince sipped at a mug of tea. It fogged the big sunglasses he wore on his face. He kept having to remove them and wipe the steam away on his shirt. It was an annoying process, but he was prepared to do anything to cover up the glistening shiner he'd gotten the night before.

He grinned an annoyed little grin and slipped them back on his face again. He sat queitly then, leaning backwards onto the front counter.

It was a quiet day, the first day he'd been up early in ages. Even more surprising, the first day he'd ever opened up shop. He felt cleansed and was very impressed with himself, and he wasn't even sleepy. Okay, saying he wasn't sleepy was an exaggeration, but he wasn't on the verge of passing out, that was for sure.

It wasn't very long before Howard was down the stairs, carrying a bin bag over her shoulder. "Morning, Vince," he said.

"Alright," Vince said in reply, turning to face him.

Howard stared at him and half-rolled his eyes. "Nice glasses," he said, sarcastically.

Vince chuckled. "Thanks," he said and put on an honest smile. "Hey, and... thanks."

Howard dropped the bin bag on the floor and turned to face Vince. "You just said that," he said.

Vince shook his head, the small smile still apparent on his face. "You know what I'm talking about, Howard."

"Who's to say I do?"

"Thanks for letting me cry, y'know? And letting me ruin your jazzy shirt. Just... thanks for being a real friend."

Howard nodded, unsure how to reply. So, he said a simple, "You're welcome," and lifted the bin bag onto his shoulder again. Without another word, he left to sit it at the curb.

There was something about Howard that was incredibly special. If not to anyone else, certainly to Vince. It almost overjoyed Vince to have Howard as his best friend, and his other half. Howard was his rock.


End file.
